


the three times matt rescued nikita, and the one time nikita rescued matt

by Willowcat88



Series: Ficmas Gifts! [2]
Category: escape the night - Fandom, real life AU - Fandom
Genre: 3+1 Things, 5+1 Things, Angst, Epic Friendship, Ficmas Gift!, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, becAUSE thIS fRienDshiP iS unDErdEvElOpEd, but its, for jasmine, my friendo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-15 04:40:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16926684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Willowcat88/pseuds/Willowcat88
Summary: it's all in the title, which you should've reAD BY NoW(Ficmas 2018 Gift to @CinderScoria. You are wonderful.)





	the three times matt rescued nikita, and the one time nikita rescued matt

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CinderScoria](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CinderScoria/gifts).
  * Inspired by [healing (isn't) linear](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15807438) by [CinderScoria](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CinderScoria/pseuds/CinderScoria). 



The first time was when she had just killed her best friend.

Nikita dropped the gun, hands going to her mouth in horror and an attempt to stifle a scream. The sound of the gunshots echoed in her ears and her heart, even though the gun was now empty.

"You  _shot_ him?!" she hears Matt cry out in shock, but she barely registers it over the sound of her regret in her head. Nikita's heard is swirling, and she's struggling to think any more than  _I just killed Manny. I_ shot  _him_ six times  _and now he's dead and it's my fault and I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry-_

She's shaken out of her spiral by a hand on her shoulder. It's Matt. He's telling her something, undoubtedly trying to soothe her, but she can't hear him. His arm is around her shoulders now, gently hurrying her out of the tent. Slowly, she can hear again, hear the crunch of her boots against the dirt and the soothing things Matt is whispering to her. He's rubbing her back gently and supporting her, which is when she realises she's still shaking. 

She takes a deep breath, knowing that she'll be no use to anyone if she's a heartbroken mess. Feelings can be postponed, right? That's what she's been working off of most of the night. 

Matt's still speaking. "Nikita? Nikita, you did what you had too. We have to keep going, okay? It's not your fault, it's the fault of this damn game. We're gonna get out of here soon, alright? We've only got to clean this artefact, and then we can go back home!" he soothes. Nikita's slowly snapping back to reality, heart patched up with tape and temporary solutions, and she just desperately wants to go  _home._

She powers through the rest of the night, because, if she doesn't stay busy, everything starts hurting again, and if that happens once more it won't stop.

* * *

By the second time, she's been home for months, but Nikita feels no different. It's almost like she never left the hellish town of Everlock.

She's still so angry, at herself, at the world, at everything within arm's reach. She's done nothing for months except keep up her HRT, cry, and  _feel._

Nikita can't stop the tidal wave of emotions, wave after wave after wave of pain. And rage. A white-hot, blinding rage that makes everything to bright and too loud. Almost every day, she loses control at some point, smashing everything that she can get to.

Her eyes are red, the skin underneath bruised nearly black from sleep deprivation. Her hands are bruised and littered with cuts from the time she spent smashing all of her glassware.

She stares at them now, blankly, knowing that these were the hands that were once used to apply makeup, and now she only knows them as the hands that killed Manny.

It's at that moment she hears a knock on the door. She ignores it at first - everything and everyone goes away eventually. But the person knocks again, so she raises her voice, husky from crying and screaming, enough to be heard.

“Go the  _fuck away.”_

The person laughs softly, and tells her to watch her language. It's then that she realises that it's Matt who's come to see her - his voice is very recognisable, after all.

She goes to the door - reluctantly, but at least she goes. "What do you want?" she sighs, suddenly exhausted from the strain the last few months have had on her.

"I want to apologise, Nikita. I should've been here for you, I should've  _realised_ how much this was all gonna affect you. I'm sorry, Nikita. I should've done more to help you." he says, brown eyes filled with a storm of emotions.

She slumps against the doorframe a bit, letting calm overwash her for a second as she squeezes her eyes shut.

"I.. Oh, alright, come in, Matt. It's a mess, so watch your step." Nikita says, stepping away from the entrance to let her fellow survivor in.

Matt steps in, nodding gratefully to her. "Where do you keep your cleaning things?" he asks gently.

The question almost startles Nikita. She's barely thought of cleaning up her destruction at all. "In the cupboard, it's down to the left," she mutters, arms folded across her chest.

Matt nods in acknowledgement, going over to the aforementioned cupboard and pulling out a dustpan and brush, before silently starting to sweep up a pile of glass in the corner of Nikita's living room.

"I can do that," she blurts out. She blinks, not sure why she said that. Matt shrugs and hands her the dustpan and brush, pulling out a broom for himself.

The two work in almost silence, sharing the odd fleeting comment, or snippet of conversation, as they clean, steadily making their way through both the kitchen and living room. Nikita enjoys it a lot more than she would normally - it's comforting to have something to  _do,_ something that finally eases the knotted fury in her stomach.

Finally, they finish working their way through the two rooms, and Nikita feels a sense of peace. "Can we do this again sometime?" she asks, still mumbling, but words a little bit clearer than they were last time.

"Sure," Matt answers simply. Nikita is so grateful to him, for just being  _there,_ without trying to coax words out of her, just giving silent support.

"Good. Because my bathroom looks like a pig's sty."

* * *

 By the third time, September 16th, things are a lot different. 

Yes, Nikita is still grieving, of course, she is, but she's no longer destroying everything in sight. She has started regularly attending the group therapy sessions with the other survivors - okay, she hasn't told anyone about what she did to Manny, but she's starting to open to them? That has to be good, right?

It's at a session where she has to be saved again. She's not enjoying this whole needing to be rescued stuff.

Tyler remembers something and says, in his soft way, one of the worst things he could say to Nikita. "Every month on the 21st, Eva and I visit the cemetery where the others are buried. It’s a little tradition, but since Oli’s moved here now and you guys are, like, officially a part of the family, you can come too!"

At this, Nikita freezes, shoulders tensing. She  _can't_ go, she just can't! Half of the deaths were mainly  _her_ fault, and then there's Manny.

She shakes her head to clear it, standing and swinging her purse over her shoulder, and refusing to go - this time out loud - in a flat tone. She makes for the door, shrugging Matt off when he tries to calm her down. Nikita storms out the door, leaving, not wanting to think about the visit.

She gets a call from Matt a few hours later. "You're not going because you feel guilty, right? That's okay, you know, you don't have to go." he soothes her, a voice of reason cutting through the chaos in her head yet again.

"Yeah, you're right, Matthew. I'm not explaining it to Tyler though, or the rest of them for that matter. I'm not ready for that. Just like you don't tell them that you  _died._ " she stops for a second, the silence from the other end implying that that was the wrong thing to say.

"..sorry, Matt. Look, I'm gonna go now, I'll see you around, okay?" she hangs up, pissed at herself for pushing Matt away when he was trying to help. She's being too prickly again, in her opinion.

* * *

It's a while before she gets to return the favour. It's been a month or two since the first time the visit was brought up, but no-one questions her decision. 

She's quite worried about Matt, not that she'd admit it. He's still showing up to group, yes, but he looks in terrible shape. Nikita knows that having a foure-month-old baby can do that to a person, but he seems worse than that.

There are ghosts and demons flickering in his eyes, his hair is frizzy from constantly running his hand through it, and the skin underneath his eyes is bruised incredibly dark. She keeps a close eye on him in group, watching him nearly doze off a couple of times, but each time he shakes his head to clear the sleepiness as if he's too afraid off sleep to give in to its soothing temptations.

His mind always seems to be elsewhere, as if he's chasing an idea, an explanation for something, that's always just out of reach, and he's getting more and more downcast every time he reaches for it and it moves away.

It makes Nikita tense up, because if there's something he's not telling the group, it's probably to protect them - but what could be worse than what they've already been through? And what's bugging him? They're safe now, aren't they? Because they deserve to be. Everyone in the room worked so hard and sacrificied so much to escape their nights, and they've all suffered more than they ever should've. It wouldn't be fair for them not to be safe!

So she resolves to corner him one day after group, and weasel an answer out of him, one way or another.

"Hey, Matt," she calls softly as the session finishes up, "Can we talk for a second?"

"Sure, Nikita, what do you need?" he yawns, attempting to rub the fatigue from his eyes once more.

"It's less of what I need, and more of what you need. You've not been sleeping, have you," she states, not asking a question because it would be pointless - she already knows he's not.

He slumps against the door with a sigh, shaking his head. "No, I haven't. Because every time I close my eyes, I'm straight back on that street, losing the challenge and being beaten to death. Because every time, I wake up screaming and I disturb everyone around me." he says, looking up at Nikita with eyes that look more shattered than her old glassware.

Nikita can't take that look anymore, and she wraps him up in a tight hug. Nikita's not that much of a hugger, but when she does, you know she means it because she loves you. Matt tenses at first, slowly relaxing into the hug that he clearly needed.

"You can tell me, Matthew. You don't have too, but always, always know that I'm here for you, okay, Matt? And when you tell the others what happened to you, they will understand. Andrea and Tyler saw Joey come back to life, so why would it be strange if you did too? And Eva and Oli won't think any worse of you for it. You're safe now, alright?" she murmurs, stroking his back comfortingly.

Because that's how they work, now and forever. Nikita will always keep Matt safe, and he will always protect her.

After all, a bond forged in fire is not easily broken.

**Author's Note:**

> holy shIT this may just be the longest thing i've ever written?? 1,853 woRDS!?!?! holyyy molyy im so proud of myself :D
> 
> Dear Jas,  
> I wanna start this off by saying just how funky and perfect and wonderful you are. You're like a second older sibling to me (much more helpful that my brother, between you and me) and you're always there for me when I need you most. You've done so so so much for me that I will always be grateful for. You taught me the easiest way to self-love when I needed it most, showed me how to leave a toxic friendship and I perk up every time I hear the ding of a tumblr message from you. Everything you do is inspirational to me, and I'm so proud of you for keeping on going even when you're struggling. I really, really want to hug you, and rest assured that I will someday, that w i l l happen. I love you so so so so much, so much more than can be put into words, and that'll never change. Keep on being you, you funky author. I will always stand by you.  
> Ever yours,  
> Tegan xoxo.


End file.
